


On Occasion

by nevertothethird



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, Gift Fic, Logan Being Impressed By Veronica's Everything, Three Years Later, VM Headquarters, VMHQ, Veronica Being Charmed By Logan's Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevertothethird/pseuds/nevertothethird
Summary: Logan and Veronica meet in a bar and then go their separate ways. And Logan doesn't ever think about her.Okay, herarelythinks of her.Okay, maybe he thinks of her a fair bit more than rarely. Fine! He thinks of her on occasion.





	On Occasion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TroubleScout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleScout/gifts).



Logan has to hand it to the woman sitting alone at the bar: she’s good. But seeing as he was practically raised by con artists (in LA they were most often referred to as _actors_ ) he can tell she’s not as unaware of her surroundings as she would like the world to believe.

She’s waiting for someone, of that he’s certain. He’s not psychic so he has absolutely no idea who she is actually meeting but an apparently crucial aspect of her plan is to put forth a façade of complete and total disinterest. She’s dressed in slim-cut cigarette pants and a silky red top that might look expensive but Logan can tell isn’t. Not that she isn’t gorgeous. The one time she left the barstool, to get the bartender’s attention he noticed that if not for her three inch heels she would be all of five feet nothing. Even _with_ the heels she’s a short little thing.

If the way she responds to the guy touting his acumen for hedge funds (as if that is a real turn on) is any indication, she’s not there to be hit on. But the guy is also a pompous ass so maybe she just has slightly more refined taste.

After he watches her tell another guy to fuck off without barely taking a breath, Logan realizes what is bothering him about the whole scenario: she’s waiting for someone but hasn’t even looked at her phone. Call it a hunch, but he thinks he has a pretty good idea why.

Logan steps off his barstool and moves to the side of the bar she’s sitting on. She doesn’t acknowledge him as he sits a seat away from her, but he notices the slight tensing of her jaw.

“Decided to get a little more up close and personal with your leering?” she asks.

Ah, so she noticed him. “I like people watching,” Logan says. “And you are a fascinating case.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

If it wasn’t for the hard set of her brow Logan might actually think he was getting somewhere with her. “I have a theory about you.”

“Do tell.”

“I have to admit, the shoes threw me off a little bit.”

“Oh, great,” she says, rotating her bar stool to angle her body towards him the slightest bit. “Not only are you a leering perv but you also have a foot fetish.”

He grins, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t you want to know my theory?” She looks at him, raises a single icy brow, and then turns away. Not to be deterred, he leans a little closer. “You a bounty hunter, boy?”

She was already still, but it’s like every cell in the woman’s body comes to a grinding halt. Then she tilts her head towards him the slightest bit and he can see the smile flirt with the corner of her mouth. It makes him feel absurdly accomplished.

She shakes her head at him. “Not today.”

Interesting. “So what are you today?”

“A private investigator.”

“Really?”

“I can flash you my badge.” She seems to realize what she just said and her face contorts. “Please,” she says, “refrain from making any sort of frat boy level comment about what I can flash you.”

“So what is that then?” he asks, pointing to the large band with gaudy gem on her finger. “Your decoder ring?”

“You know, I’ve never actually used a decoder ring before.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“This conversation is giving me whiplash.” She rests an elbow on the bar. “Are you even old enough to buy yourself a drink?”

For the first time in their interaction she’s thrown him. Mostly because her suspicions are correct: he isn’t old enough to order a drink, but no one has treated him like anything less than a full-fledged adult for a long while. “What if I told you that I live in the penthouse suite and I think this place operates on a strict ‘let the wealthy man upstairs buy whatever he wants’ policy?”

“Well, if I were an officer of the law I would have to care very much about that.”

“But since you’re not?”

She smiles, and then seems to think better of it. “A vodka tonic would be appreciated.”

After the bartender brings her drink and another whiskey for him, Logan abandons all pretense and moves to the barstool beside her.

“Logan Echolls,” he says, extending his hand.

The woman smiles in a way that looks innocent but could also mean she’s about to destroy him. It’s more attractive than he cares for. “It’s cute you think I didn’t already know that,” she says, but takes his hand. “Veronica Mars.”

He’s left wondering how she figured out who he was when he hasn’t seen her use her phone once. Maybe _she’s_ the one who’s a little bit psychic.

It doesn’t take long for him to suss out that Veronica Mars is there waiting for a mark to show up - specifically with a woman _not_ his wife. The man is apparently deluded enough to think that the 30 minutes between San Diego and Neptune is enough distance to prevent him from getting caught.

“It’s good that you chatted me up,” she says.

“And why is that?”

“Because no one will believe the woman sitting at the bar with her little brother could be a private investigator.”

“Hardy har,” he says. Logan actually takes great offense at this and tells her all about how offended he is but she’s smiling as he sputters out his defense so he doesn’t mind too much.

Veronica Mars, it turns out, is only 23-years old.

“A private investigator? How did that happen?”

“Well, when I was your age,” she starts, infusing her voice with a healthy dose of gravitas.

“Oh please,” Logan says, “spare me.”

“No, I’m serious. I helped out at my dad’s PI firm when I was in high school and college. I have a very slight, practically infinitesimal, reckless streak and when I was 19 my dad told me I either had to get my license and start following the rules, or he could find someone to take my place.”

“So you toe the line now?”

“More or less.” She looks like she wants to say something, but then shakes her head, clearly thinking better of it.

“What?” he asks.

“Well, I don’t think my dad would be thrilled that I am flirting with Logan Echolls in a bar to prevent my cover from being blown.” She shrugs. “But I’m improvising.”

Logan laughs. “I’m sorry. You think you’re flirting with me?” He shakes his head, giving her a pitying look as he does. “I hate to break it to you, but your game needs all kinds of work.”

“It’s working okay on you.”

“Yes,” he says, “but I’m a raised-in-Hollywood-whore-of-a-man. I’m easy.”

The night wears on and he figures that Veronica’s mark must be scheduled to arrive at any moment, but she’s had a couple vodka tonics, and she’s so short that he offers to order them some food.

“You know, the crab ravioli here is excellent,” she says.

“Then you should have ordered it.”

“But if you had ordered it then I could have had some of my burger _and_ your ravioli.”

“Seeing as I value my life, I decided against it.” He steals a fry from her plate. “Shellfish allergy.”

She smacks his hand and steals some of the crispy fried onions from the top of his steak. “If you truly value your life you’ll keep your mitts off my food.”

“You’re a very aggressive date.”

She smiles around a large bite of her burger. “This isn’t a date.”

“We’re drinking, we’re laughing, I bought you food.”

“I don’t date children.”

Logan scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m 19.”

“You can’t even rent a car without being charged an additional fee.”

“Neither can you,” Logan says.

“Yes, but I am four whole years closer to that wonderful privilege than you are.”

“You live by a very strange code.”

“The strangest,” she says.

After another hour Veronica’s mark still hasn’t shown up. She texts someone and grumbles a bit but then stays where she is.

“Did you miss the guy?” Logan asks.

“No. My contact says he still hasn’t checked in.”

“Oooh, you have someone on the inside?” He spins his seat around so he can glance over at the front desk. “Let me guess, it’s Tina?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because she’s doing her absolute best right now to pretend she’s not staring.” He turns back around. “Tina’s the best.”

“ _Tina’s the best_ ,” Veronica says in a comically deep tone. “You would say that.”

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to be me?”

“Of course the tall leggy blonde is ‘the best,’” she says, ignoring his commentary.

“What can I say?” Logan shrugs, “I have a thing for blondes.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

He leans his elbow on the bar, resting his hand on his palm. “I know I am.”

“What you are is --” Veronica trails off, and her jaw gets this hard set to it.

“Veronica?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” He’s about to turn around to see what she’s looking at but she stops him with a quickly placed hand to his leg. Well, more like his upper thigh. She _absolutely_ has his attention.

“Don’t move,” she says, sliding off her barstool to stand between Logan’s legs. She fiddles with her ring, rotating it so the gemstone is tucked into her palm and then winds her arms around Logan’s neck. “He’s here,” she whispers. He hears the faintest of clicks coming from her ring.

He kisses her cheek, moving his hands down to span her waist, and smirks at her intake of breath. “So, really not a decoder ring?” he asks.

She shakes her head and then kind of nuzzles into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Not quite.”

“Is he still there?” Logan asks. He feels Veronica nod against his shoulder. “Okay.” He moves his hands up from Veronica’s waist so that one spans her back and the other tangles in the hair at the nape of her neck, massaging the muscles there with his thumb.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Helping you keep your cover.”

“I’m not a spy, you know.” She leans into him a little more and he thinks he imagines the press of her lips to his neck, but then she does it again.

“Okay, I was wrong,” he says, kissing along her jaw. She raises her head, giving him better access to her neck.

“Wrong about what?”

“You might be _okay_ at this whole flirting thing.”

And then just like that she pulls away and is out of his arms.

“I think I got it,” she says. Logan watches, amused, as she tries to put her hair to rights. She throws back a large gulp of water and straightens her blouse. It appears she’s determined to pretend she didn’t gasp when he kissed her neck. _Okay, then._

She holds her bag in front of her. “Well, thanks for the help. And the burger.” She hesitates and then punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Pal.”

He laughs and grabs her hand before she can step too far away. “Allow me the chance to --” he looks into the air as if searching for words, “what do old, mature, grownups like you call it? Make love to you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Also _yuck_.”

“In its original meaning, the phrase ‘make love’ --”

She cuts him off. “I can’t date a --”

“Child?” he asks at the same time she does. “You need a new line. Can I please have your number?”

She looks to where he’s still holding her hand and then it’s like all the energy leaves her body and her shoulders sag. “Give me your phone,” she says. He’s half convinced that she’s not going to give him her real number. But how many Veronica Mars’ who operate as a private investigator in San Diego can there be? She hands him back the phone, setting it in his palm.

“Don’t even think of calling me until you graduate from college.”

He laughs and rotates their hands so they’re clasped for a handshake. “Deal,” he says.

“It was very nice to meet you,” she says primly, and then leaves the bar.

He doesn’t think of Veronica very often. Well, at least _he_ doesn’t think he does. Logan supposes it all depends on how one would define the phrase _very often._ He thinks of her on the most rare of occasions.

* * *

**Occasion 1:**

Logan is picking up takeout from a deli he really likes and the cashier wishes him a Happy Hanukkah. He could have sworn the guy said Veronica. But “happy Veronica”? What sense does that make?

**Occasion 2:**

He and Dick are on the beach one night with a group of ladies that normally — if he were a little less depressed and a little more sober — he wouldn’t even consider entertaining. As it is, though. He agrees to go on a walk with one of them — Tatum? Or Taylor, maybe? — pretending like she’s not going to try and get into his pants, and that the sole reason isn’t that he’s Aaron Echolls’ son. Halfway into their stroll, he’s distracted by the sight of a blonde woman with her pitbull out for a late night run. The pitbull slows down and the woman turns around.

“Come on slowpoke,” she shouts. The waves are loud enough he can barely hear her. The dog catches up and the two of them run around each other for a little before the dog stops running and lays down, wagging his tail like he’s done something to be proud of.

There’s something about the way the woman sits next to the dog, wrapping her arms around his head and rubbing his ears affectionately, that gets to him. It’s kind, and simple, and so normal. And having a girl want to give you a blowjob because your deceased father was a famous movie star is nowhere approaching normal.

So when Taylor tries to pull him towards his car he stops her and suggests they walk back to the bonfire instead.

That night, back in his suite at the penthouse, Logan remembers how indignant he was when Veronica made jokes about how young he was. But what about his life even comes close to resembling that of an adult?

**Occasion 3:**

Trina’s in town and the two of them get drinks. She orders a vodka tonic and Logan finds himself saying, “that’s my friend Veronica’s drink.”

**Occasion 4:**

Logan gets bored one night and looks up the meaning of his name. And then looks up the meanings of the names of everyone he knows ( _Richard means ‘strong in rule?’ Who would have guessed it?_ ) and happens to stumble upon the meaning of the name Veronica.

**Occasion 5:**

Lilly’s visiting him over her spring break and, though their attempts at any sort of a romantic relationship have long since passed, they sometimes fall into old habits. Like Logan slinging an arm around Lilly’s shoulder as they walk, and Lilly pressing a kiss to his cheek when he brings her a chocolate chip cookie from the bakery. He doesn’t realize that where he and Lilly are in the bakery waiting for their lattes is blocking traffic until he hears someone clear their throat.

“Excuse me,” she says. It doesn’t make any sense. He hasn’t seen or talked to here in two years, but —

Lilly and Logan step out of the way and the woman pushes past without looking back so he can’t be certain. She definitely had a very Veronica Mars quality about her, though.

**Occasion 6:**

He reads a newspaper article about a bust of a grand theft auto ring. The arrest was officially credited to the San Diego Police Department but it was with the assistance of Mars Investigations. The article is replete with mentions of and quotes from Keith Mars (he assumes Veronica’s father) and Veronica herself. He feels like on this specific occasion he can be forgiven thinking her about seeing as the article explicitly mentioned her name.

* * *

The point is, he rarely thinks about her.

* * *

There is one other occasion where Logan just happens to think of Veronica Mars: his graduation from college.

He doesn’t expect her to answer the phone. Or talk to him. Or do anything _except_ for hang up and then block his number. But he graduated from college and she’s been like the physical embodiment of an ellipsis — a what if, a what could be, a what comes next. Logan figures he’ll call her, she won’t answer, and then he will no longer even have the need for a rare occasion upon which to think of her.

It’s a scant amount of brain space that exorcising her from his thoughts will provide him, but hey, he’s seriously considering graduate school so he needs all the brain space he can get.

So he calls her and as he is in the middle of planning the voicemail he’ll leave her (there is a Kurt Vonnegut quote about maturity and disappointment that feels particularly relevant) the phone stops ringing.

“Hello.” It’s Veronica’s voice. He thinks. It’s been a few years so his memory has done that thing it’s wont to do which is soften and sharpen the image he has of her.

Logan clears his throat. “May I speak to Veronica?”

“This is Veronica.”

She sounds faintly amused, which is unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. “How many times a day do you think to yourself ‘what the hell’?”

“Are you trying to sell me Amway or something?”

He laughs, standing up from where he sits on his couch and then promptly sits back down. He really should have practiced this speech. “Look, I’m not sure what to say except that three years ago we almost made out in a bar and you told me to call you when I graduated from college. I have processed, my mortar board was sufficiently tossed, and I am now dealing with the terrible uncertainty of a post-university future.”

“Is this your best pitch?”  

Logan grins. “No. My best pitch would include a fair bit more sincerity.”

“Can I hear your best pitch then?” she asks.

“Veronica Mars, you’ve been in and out of my head the past three years. Can I take you on a date?”

There’s a second or two of silence and then, “What the hell.”

* * *

They’re on their second drink, waiting for trivia night to begin, when Logan asks Veronica the question he’s been pondering for a few days.

“How did you get my number?” he asks.

She’s looking at him like he might be the dumbest person she knows, but her body is still positioned so that her ankle is looped around his so she can’t mind too much. “Uh, you called me?” she asks.

He rolls his eyes. “You mean to tell me that as a private investigator, an unidentified number called and you answered without screening it?” He takes a french fry from her plate and points it at her. She lets him. _Interesting._ “You had my number. Before I called you.”

“If what you’re saying is true —”

Logan laughs. “If?”

Veronica ignores him. “Yes, _if,_ then that would be a gross misuse of resources available to me as a private investigator.”

“I might get ‘gross misuse of resources’ etched on my tombstone when I die.”

They’re only through drinks and food and it’s already one of the best dates Logan’s ever had. But then he takes her to a quote-a-long of _The Big Lebowski_ and discovers she has the entirety of the “I’m the Dude” monologue memorized. He considers proposing marriage.

For Veronica’s part, she at the very least appears to be very fond of touching him. But it’s not in any way that Logan has ever been touched before. It’s not like she’s making a pass at him or trying to drop hints that she really wants to bang one out in the movie theater bathroom. It’s almost like she’s investigating _him_ and it requires a detailed analysis of the bumps and calluses and plains of his hands. And to be tucked into his side while they watch a movie. And to bump his hip as they walk.

The movie theater is less than a mile from Veronica’s apartment and the night is still warm so he offers to walk her home.

“No getting fresh,” she says. “I’m still not sure I’m sold on this whole idea of me as a cougar.”

“I don’t think you qualify, Veronica.”

She looks at him like she’s not sure if she believes him. Still, she takes his hand in hers as they walk.

“You have pretty hands,” she says.

It’d be so easy to turn it into an innuendo. Wave his fingers, and bob his eyebrows, and tell her everything his hands could do for her. But she sounds so sincere. Instead he settles on raising their clasped hands and kissing the back of hers.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Your turn to compliment me now.”

It takes less than half a second for him to settle on, “You are a woman who knows exactly what she wants.” She holds his hand even tighter so he thinks he did alright.

“What did you get your degree in?” she asks.

“Psychobiology.”

She stops walking and he turns around when their arms stretch between them.

“What?” he asks.

“What in the world compelled you to do that?”

“Honestly?” Veronica nods. “Pure spite.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding sagely. “A motivator I am all too familiar with.”

“My freshman year I was stuck in all these general requirement courses I just had to get through. I had this real dick of a professor for my cell and molecular bio course. He was determined to prove he didn’t care who I was, I think.”

“Which only proves how much he _did_ care,” Veronica says.

“Exactly. So he’s just this huge asshole to me for the entire semester. He was also the chair of the psychobiology department and they boasted one of the lowest admissions rates of any major on campus.”

“So naturally you had to apply.”

“Naturally.” Veronica shakes her head at him, but either she’s doing a very poor job of hiding her amusement or she’s simply not trying.

“Does your story have a properly inspirational ending? Did the asshole professor become your mentor and help you discover your true potential?”

“Nope. As is often true in life the asshole remained one and I graduated with a respectable GPA but without his deference or apology.”

“Life, man,” she says.

They arrive at her apartment and she looks up to, what Logan can only guess, is her window and then back at him.

“I will not be inviting you up,” she pronounces.

“Got it.”

“But I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy myself tonight. Even though you are way too young for me, and if I ever told my friends they would laugh their asses off, and I’m seriously thinking --”

There’s not much more of that Logan can stand to hear, so he does what he’s been wanting to do all night (and on the aforementioned incredibly rare occasions where he happens to think of Veronica Mars) and kisses her.

When he pulls back, Veronica’s chest is hand-to-god heaving, but then he hears the shuddering breaths leaving his body and realizes he’s in a similar state.

“Oh god,” she says, leaning against the wall of her building. She hits her head back on the brick wall.

He knows it’s not hard enough to hurt but he finds himself cradling her head, rubbing his thumb along her neck as he does. “What?” he asks.

“You’re _twenty-two_ ,” she says, sounding deeply grieved.

“Twenty-two is a magical age. Taylor Swift wrote an entire song about it.”

“ _Oh god._ You are such an asshole. You are twenty-two and a giant asshole,” she says. Which should be an insult, but seeing as she hauls him closer by his shirt and stands on tiptoe to kiss him again, he decides to take it as a compliment.

* * *

“This is unjust.”

“I know,” Logan consoles.

“Seriously, I have seen some things in my life but this is more than one woman can stand.”

* * *

What happened is that Logan planned the kind of cheesy date for their one year anniversary that high school him would have endlessly made fun of him for. Including recreating their first official date by visiting the same bar they went to for trivia night. Which led to Veronica being carded. Logan was not.

“I’m four years older than him,” she said, handing the server her ID. “He can’t even rent a car without being charged an exorbitant fee.”

Logan rested his chin in his palm and smiled at her. “What is your fascination with this whole rental car thing? When’s the last time you even rented a car?”

“It’s the _principle_ of the matter,” she explained.

* * *

“Take it as a compliment. You’ve yet to lose your youthful glow!”

“Take your youthful glow and --”

“Sorry, snookums. Seeing as we’re recreating our first date, neither one of us will be shoving anything anywhere.”

That stops the rest of Veronica’s retort. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He takes a large bite out his burger, just to annoy her, and then smiles. “It’s romantic.”

“You’re purposefully foregoing anniversary sex?”

“I’m building anticipation,” he explains. “It’s foreplay.”

“Really?” she asks. And then she gets this familiar gleam in her eye that always manages to both terrify and turn him on. “So where will you be sleeping tonight?”

“Huh?”

“Well, if you’re so committed to authenticity then we should probably sleep in separate beds.”

“Fine. Then after we wake up in our separate beds, after the best date of your life, you can dodge my calls for a solid week.”  

“It wasn’t a solid week!”

“Or --” Logan says, trailing off.

“Or?”

“Or,” he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small gift box. “We could try something new.”

It doesn’t take her long to unwrap the gift and if Logan’s not mistaken she’s the faintest bit disappointed.

“How is this something new? I already have a copy of your house key.”

“But this one would be yours to keep. Move in with me.”

She stares at the key for a second before she shrugs. “Won’t that cramp your style?” Veronica turns the key over and over again in the palm of her hand.

“How so?”

“I mean, don’t you need more time to sow your wild oats? Live life as an unattached bachelor who uses all that beach real estate to throw some wicked bitchin’ parties? What if I --?

“Stop it,” he says, reaching for her hand. “I only want you.” He kisses her knuckles. “Move in with me.”

“Well, my apartment complex did just raise the cost of doing a load of laundry, so --” And he knows her well enough to know that she’s having a difficult time concealing the brightness of her smile.

“So, yes?” he asks, because he might know her, but he wants to hear her say it.

“So yes.”

Later that night, after Logan goes back on his word and they have all the anniversary sex, he presses a kiss to her shoulder, laying on his side to face her.

“Thank you,” he says.

She scrunches her brow. “For what?”

“For making me wait for you.”

Veronica nods, her cheek smushed into the pillow in a way that is cuter than he can stand. “It was worth it?”

Logan knows enough about Veronica to know that what she’s actually asking is, _‘I was worth it?’_

He cups her cheek and kisses her. “On occasion,” he says, and then ignores her huff of annoyance to kiss her again.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [troublescout](http://troublescout.tumblr.com/) as part of the VMHQ sponsored birthday gifts.
> 
> This has been in my drafts for _years_ and it feels so good to get it posted.


End file.
